


Where You Lead

by secretsidgenowriter



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Friends to Lovers, Gilmore Girls AU, Inns, M/M, Non hockey au, Runaway Sid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 07:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16868347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsidgenowriter/pseuds/secretsidgenowriter
Summary: “Coffee.”Geno keeps his head down, rhythmically whisking a dozen eggs in a big steel bowl as Sid pushes his way further into the kitchen.“Do you have coffee? I need it.”





	Where You Lead

“Coffee.”

Geno keeps his head down, rhythmically whisking a dozen eggs in a big steel bowl as Sid pushes his way further into the kitchen.

“Do you have coffee? I need it.”

Geno’s still whisking as he tips his head toward the coffee machine in the corner and Sid breathes out a long sigh of relief as he makes his way over.

“Should drink tea,” Geno says, “better for you.”

Sid pulls a face as he grabs a clean mug from the shelf above the machine. “I tried it, it tastes like wet leaf water.”

Geno rolls his eyes and scoffs. “You don’t drink it right.”

“There’s more than one way to drink it?” Sid pulls out the carafe and makes a truly pathetic noise when he tips the pot toward the mug and nothing comes out. “Geno, what the hell?”

“Have to make new pot.”

“I don’t have time for that.”

Geno looks up then and the whisk stills against the side of the bowl and Sid already knows what he’s thinking.

“I know, I know,” Sid says as he puts the mug down, “I’m too busy and I never sit down and I need to relax but I can’t. This is the busiest time of the year.”

“Leaf peekers,” Geno says.

“Peepers,” Sid corrects, “and yes. A whole herd of them are going to be checking in in a few minutes and I was up late making sure their rooms were ready.”

“Have housekeeping staff to do that for you, Sid.”

“You have a kitchen staff to whip the eggs but you like to do that.”

Geno looks down at the bowl, a little guilty, but makes no move to hand it off to one of the other cooks. “They never get enough air in them,” he mumbles quietly and Sid smirks.

“Do you have any instant coffee?”

The look Geno gives him is deadly. “In my kitchen?”

“I’m desperate.”

Geno finally puts the bowl down and wipes his hands on his crisp, white, chefs apron and reaches beneath the counter.

He pulls out a French Press, already prepped with steeped coffee.

“You’ve been holding out on me?”

“I buy to test coffee that the suppliers bring in. Don’t want to waste time making full pot when I could do this. Give me your cup.”

Sid quickly hands over his mug and almost moans when Geno pours the coffee to the rim, steam wafting the rich scent of it into the air.

“Should be tea,” Geno sing-songs as he carefully hands the mug back over. Sid eagerly takes it and cups his hands around it, the heat of it seeping through the ceramic. “Going to burn hole in stomach with coffee.”

“Worth it,” Sid says as he takes his first sip and then does moan, making Geno’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, god. What is this?”

“Our regular coffee but I sprinkle little bit of cinnamon and nutmeg into it. Fresh, of course. Taste like fall, yes? Think maybe your peepers will like it.”

“They’ll love it. I love it. This is amazing.”

Geno smiles, clearly pleased. “Will go well with French toast. Sit and eat.”

Sid takes another sip and shakes his head. “Can’t, you know I can’t, but I’m sure it’s going to taste great.”

“Of course great, I make.”

“I don’t doubt you,” Sid says as he and his exceptional cup of coffee work their way toward the door. “Can you hurry up, though, breakfast starts in half an hour.”

“Someone bother me for coffee and it slow me down.”

“Make more of this too,” Sid says as he points to the mug, “you’re doing a great job, Geno. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m know, I’m know,” Geno says as he waves his hand then picks up the whisk. “Have good day if I don’t see.”

Sid smiles at him and pushes his way out of the swinging kitchen doors.

 

-

 

Sid had only just turned eighteen when he accidentally on purpose outed himself at a family dinner.

Forks and knives clattered against his mother’s finest China as everyone, save for Taylor who was seated across from him still happily shoveling roasted sweet potatoes into her mouth, stared at him.

The silence was deafening and no one attempted to stop him as he pushed away from the table, went upstairs, packed a small bag of essentials, grabbed his car keys, and took off.

He emptied his savings, a meager amount in the grand scheme of things, and drove until he crossed the border into America, never looking back once.

Pine Knoll wasn’t the first town he stopped in but it was certainly the friendliest.

When he fumbled with what was left of his cash in the local diner–he had already spent too much on gas and snacks, picking up Twinkies and Ding-Dongs and Pop-Tarts and Cheetos—all those foods his parents never allowed him to eat— a sandy haired, blue eyed boy about the same age as Sid named Jack, waved him off.

“On the house,” he had said as he topped off Sid’s coffee, something else that Sid was just getting used to but quickly learning to love.

“No, I can’t, I have the money,” Sid quickly stuttered out because it was true, he had the money, he would just have to extra extra careful going forward, but Jack refused to take it.

“It’s fine. My Dad’s the owner and he’s terrible with numbers. He won’t even notice.”

“If you’re sure,” Sid said as he slowly put the money away.

“I’m positive,” Jack said and tapped the table with a smile before turned away to check on another customer.

On the way out Jack stopped him and lowered his voice to just above a whisper as he said “I know it’s none of my business but if you’re ever looking for work, go see Mario at the Shady Lake Inn. I know he’s always looking for extra help, especially with the busy season coming up.”

Sid had feigned disinterest then asked for directions to the Inn from the man behind the counter at the bookstore a few streets over.

Shady Lake Inn was a large, powder blue Victorian with a wrap around porch and dark blue shutters. It was tucked into the woods and on the edge of a lake, surrounded by miles and miles of hiking trails that led into the pristine Maine countryside. It was picturesque and perfect, something his mother would have called quaint and charming–something she would have loved and that alone would have been enough to make him turn around and leave but…he needed the money.

Mario seemed thankful for the help and Sid was happy to suddenly have a purpose and a place to spend his time that didn’t involve skulking around the town trying not to look suspicious or pathetic.

Sid was hired to help with housekeeping–washing the sheets and replacing the mini shampoos and conditioners, placing mints on the pillows. It was hard work and at the end of the day he was exhausted and had no trouble falling asleep on the lumpy mattress in the cheap motel he was staying in. But, as cheap as it was and as fairly as he was being paid, it just wasn’t enough to cover his expenses and since he had a perfectly good car that supplied him with a roof over his head he checked out of the motel and moved into the car.

Since school didn’t start for another few weeks, at the end of the night, Sid parked in the far corner of the high school parking lot, out of the shine of the street lights and curled up in the back. He used his backpack as a pillow and pulled on every sweatshirt he brought with him to keep warm.

He slept there every night for a week, using the alarm on his phone to wake him up where he’d sneak into work early, take a shower in one of the vacant rooms, get dressed, then start his day.

There was always the worry about getting caught and an even bigger one about what he would do once the late summer temperatures fell into fall–he didn’t have a backup plan and when he was awoken by a knock on the window above him and opened his eyes to see Sergei Gonchar looking in a him with his hands cupped to the glass, he knew how big of a mistake that was.

Gonchar–or Gonch as everyone called him—was the head chef at the inn’s attached restaurant. It served breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the guests and the general public and with its mix of Russian, American, and Canadian comfort food was almost more popular than the inn itself.

Gonch had always seemed like a nice enough guy, and smart as well because as soon as Sid popped open the passenger side door and Gonch got a good look inside at all of Sid’s belongings he knew immediately what was going on.

“Think maybe we have talk with Mario,” he said and left no room for an argument as he held the door open and waited for Sid to climb out.

Mario had a look of disappoint and worry as Sid sat across from in his office with Gonch standing behind him.

The silence was deafening, just like the night Sid left home, and when Mario finally broke it his words seemed to ring in Sid’s ears.

“Do your parents know where you are?”

“I’m eighteen,” Sid had snapped, “they don’t need to know where I am.”

Mario looked over Sid’s shoulder at Gonch and a moment later Sid heard the door open and then close behind them.

“You told me you were staying at the motel in Pembroke until you found a real place to stay.”

“I have a place to stay.”

“Your car is not an option, Sidney,” Mario said, voice louder and sharper than Sid had ever heard it before and he slouched down in his chair. Mario visibly softened. “Why didn’t you tell me you tell me you needed help?”

“What was I supposed to do, ask for a raise? You pay me more than enough but things are expensive. I can’t keep up.”

Mario was quiet for a moment then stood up. “Follow me.”

Sid rolled his eyes but stood anyways. “You don’t have to escort me out. If you’re going to fire me I’ll just go, I won’t make a scene.”

“Fire you,” Mario asked with a laugh, “Sid, you’re the hardest worker I have here, myself included. I’m not going to fire you. I’m going to help you.”

So Sid followed him through the Inn and out the backdoor to the small tool shed on the edge of the property.

Mario took a key out of his pocket and pushed the door open. The inside was musty and windows were covered with cobwebs but Sid could see that it was bigger than he expected it to be. There was a bed frame against the wall along with a dresser and a small kitchenette. The rest of the space was taken up by old furniture, folding chairs, ottomans and end tables. Framed photos and lamps.

“There’s a toilet and a shower behind that door,” Mario said as he nodded toward the back corner of the room. “Back when this place was first built they used to keep a farrier on site for the horses. He stayed here. It was converted into a guest suite in the 80’s but we never made much money off of it. It’s been used for storage since then. I’m going to call someone in to bring it up to code and then you can fix it up however you want. You can pick the paint color, the furnishings…I’m sure we have a spare mattress kicking around somewhere.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s yours, Sid, but until it’s fixed you’ll stay with my family, we have plenty of room.”

“No, I can’t do that,” Sid had protested but Mario shook his head and raised his hand to quiet him.

“You don’t really have another option, do you? I would extend the offer for you to stay with us indefinitely but you obviously left home for a reason, you obviously want your freedom and I respect that.”

“I can’t pay for rent here,” Sid said as he gestured weakly toward the building and Mario shook his head.

“Who said anything about rent? I already told you work harder than anyone here. You’ve more than earned your keep.” Mario began his way up to the house but turned halfway up the lawn. “You’re welcome to take today to clear the place out. I’m not even sure what’s in here anymore so go ahead and make three piles. One you think the Inn should keep in storage somewhere else, one for things you want to keep in here, and one for the trash. When it’s time to leave at the end of the day I’ll take you to your car and you can follow me home. I’ll call my wife and ask her to make up the spare room for you.”

Mario turned again but Sid called his name before he could get any further away. “Thank you,” he said and Mario had nodded, like it wasn’t a big deal, before he continued on.

Sid worked all day in the shed and by the time the sun began to dip below the horizon he was dirty and sweaty and in no shape to meet the family that would be hosting him for the next…however long the renovations were going to take.

He had just lifted the hem of his t-shirt to wipe at his forehead when there was a knock on the side of the open door.

“You Sid, yes,” the man standing just outside the door said. “I see you around sometimes.”

Sid had seen the man around sometimes too. He worked in the kitchen with Gonch and his name was Geno, but that wasn’t his real name.

Sid never had much reason to venture into restaurant’s kitchen. He was a worthless cook and was convinced he’d only get in the way. Plus everyone on the kitchen staff always seemed so…cliquey. They hung together. Sid would see the lot of them–busboys included–grouped together taking their breaks just beyond the treeline, far enough from the guests so some of them could smoke without bothering anyone. It looked like an exclusive club, everyone matching either in their white chef aprons or the black vests and their non-slip shoes.

“Yes,” Sid said as he dropped his shirt. “I’m Sid.”

The man nodded to him then to the plate he was holding. “Brought food. Didn’t see you come in for lunch.”

“I was working out here. I missed it.”

Geno nodded and started to come into the shed but Sid shook his head and ushered him back out, grabbing two galvanized buckets he had found and bringing them with.

“It’s real dusty in here,” he said as he upended both buckets and sat down, gesturing to Geno to do the same. “You brought me food?”

Geno nodded and lifted the silver dome off the plate revealing two huge chicken sandwiches surrounded by potato chips.

“There’s no way I can eat both.”

“Is fine,” Geno said as he finally sat down, looking ridiculous with his knees tucked against his chest. “Other one for me.”

Geno lifted his sandwich off the plate as Sid took his first bite. The chicken was grilled and covered with cheese, tomato, and pesto and the bread was soft on the inside and crusty on the outside.

“It’s really good,” Sid had said as he grabbed a chip, homemade and still warm from the fryer.

“Is just sandwich,” Geno had said, but he looked a little pleased as he explained that he made the pesto and the bread.

“You work with Gonch,” Sid had asked because he didn’t know what else to say but Geno had smiled and nodded as he took another bite.

“Yes. Going to take over for him when he retires.”

“Does Gonch know that?”

“Yes,” Geno said with a laugh, “he remind me always. Has kids and family. Want to spend more time with them. Upset that he has to wait until I graduate.”

“So you’re still in school?”

“Yes, Johnson and Wales, culinary program. Second year. Gonch gets me job here during the summers. Is like internship but Mario pay me. Good experience. Gonch say you’re going to live here,” Geno said as he tipped his head back toward the shed.

Sid hunched in on himself and prepared to be judged but Geno had simply shrugged.

“Could be nice living alone. Back at campus I have to live with three other guys. All loud, all stink.”

Sid had laughed then put his food down. “I’m supposed to be going off to college,” he said softly. If he had stayed he would be headed off to Queen’s University to earn a degree in business before landing a job at his father’s office.

“What happened,” Geno asked. “Why you here?”

The only answer Sid thought of was the truth. “I told my family I was gay at dinner and then I ran away.”

There was a brief moment of panic as the silence hung between them and then Geno hummed and said “I tell my parents after I’m thousands of mile away. But your way good too, I guess.”

Sid had laughed and Geno shot him a smile and together they finished their meals in comfortable silence.

Three years later Geno graduated from culinary school and took over for Gonch and seven years and one health scare after that, Mario stepped away from day to day operations at the Inn and Sid stepped in.

With Mario’s help and a lot of overtime hours worked Sid was able to save up enough to buy a small home a few miles from Shady Lake. He made friends, Flower who was a mechanic at the garage, Horny who owned the bakery, Tanger who Sid hired as the concierge at the Inn because he spoke French better than Sid would ever hope to, and Jack who took over for his father at the diner.

And of course, Geno, who seemed to make it his personal mission to make sure Sid was well fed.

Now Geno is practically force feeding him duck confit and roasted butternut squash leftover from the dinner rush. He had bullied Sid into the kitchen, mumbling in Russia about how–Sid guesses–that Sid never takes a break or takes care of himself.

“You get car looked at yet,” Geno asks as he pours Sid a cup of hot chocolate, thick enough that it could be eaten with a spoon. He wants to save room, he knows there’s candied pecan pie with softly whipped cream to look forward to.

“Not yet,” Sid says as he takes his first sip. “Jack said he would look at it.” He looked up just in time to see Geno’s jaw set, the same way it always did when Sid brought up Jack.

“Jack is not mechanic. Bring to Flower.”

“Flower overcharges just to be a dick sometimes.”

“Not if you babysit. He cut you a deal and I know you love kids.”

“I do but I don’t have time for that. Unfortunately.” He stabs his fork into a chunk of butternut squash and set his sights on Geno again. “Jack said he’d come here to work on it so I didn’t have to miss work.”

Geno’s jaw twitches and Sid sets down the fork. “Why don’t you like Jack?”

“I never say that.”

“You don’t have to. I can tell. I thought you two would have bonded by now or something. You’re both cooks. You have a lot in common.”

“I am chef,” Geno says as he tosses a pan into the sink. “Went to school for that. What did he do? Learn from dad?”

“Wow,” Sid says, “I never thought you’d be such a snob about something like that.”

“I’m not snob.”

“I didn’t go to college, do you think less of me for that?”

“You got degree.”

“I went to night school.”

“Is same thing.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Sid says softly because it doesn’t, not when he thinks about what he could have had, not when he thinks about how it felt to walk across the stage in a tiny, little gymnasium at the community college with fifty other people instead of five hundred. It was only Geno in the crowd to greet him when it was over. Geno had hugged him and told him how proud of him he was and Sid had believed it at the time, but now…

“Is not about school,” Geno admits.

“Then what is it?”

“Why it matter?”

“I’d like if my friends didn’t openly hate each other.”

Geno tips his head back and closes his eyes at the ceiling.

“Don’t hate him, Sid.”

“Jack’s a good guy. He’s helped me a lot over the years.”

Geno drops his head and stares at Sid, full on. “You ever think about why?”

“Why what?”

“Why he help you? Why he’s always there?”

“Because he’s a good friend and a good person.”

“Because he likes you, Sid. Really likes you.”

“Geno, what? Come on, no he doesn’t.”

Geno’s eyebrows raise and Sid thinks maybe, maybe he has a point. Maybe he’s caught Jack looking a little longer than necessary and maybe there’s a reason why he always picks up when Sid calls but at the same time. It’s Jack and it’s not like that.

“No, shut up,” Sid says as he picks his fork back up and pushes his food around the plate. “You’re wrong and even if you were right, why do you even care?”

“Because I care.”

“But why?”

“Because, Sid.” Geno shakes his head slowly and takes a deep breath right as Tanger comes bursting through the doors with a huge wicker basket wrapped in cellophane in his hands. “Have to be careful,” Geno barks at him, “what if someone walking by with something hot?”

“Dinner is over,” Tanger says dryly as he sets the basket down. “I knew the only ones in here were you two, calm down. Sid, that guy finally left but not before he left me with this to give to you.”

“This conversation isn’t over,” Sid says as he points at Geno then reaches for the basket. “Mr. O'Connell? He was still here?”

“Who is Mr. O’Connell,” Geno asks.

“The old guy that was sitting in the lobby all day,” Tanger answers then says to Sid, “he was really adamant about speaking with you. He said he was going to try back again tomorrow.”

“He certainly is persistent,” Sid says as he unwraps the basket. It’s filled with fishing lures and fancy coffee and imported chocolates from Europe. There are a couple of books on first hand accounts from soldiers during World War I and individual packets of gourmet peanut butter. “And he apparently knows me pretty well.”

“Who is this guy,” Geno asks as he peeks into the basket and Tanger plucks out two pieces of paper.

“These are tickets to a Bruins game in an executive suite. Can I have them?”

Sid snatches them back and tucks them between a bag of coffee and an insulated water bottle. “No, you can’t.”

“Who is this guy,” Geno asks again, losing his patience, “how he know to get you all this?”

“We’ve been talking,” Sid admits and Tanger and Geno both frown at him.

“Sid.” Geno says very seriously. “I see him in lobby. He old, you like that?”

“He’s not that old.”

“He has grey hair.”

Sid cocks his head to the side and give Geno an unimpressed look. He’s well aware of the grey that’s begun to pop up right behind his ears.

“Bad grey,” Geno says, “he has bad grey. You have good.”

Sid rolls his eyes and flips open one of the books. “We haven’t been talking like that anyways. He’s trying to get me to come work for him.”

Tanger slaps the book out of his hands. “He’s trying to poach you.” Tanger looks furious but Geno’s face is carefully blank.

“Not really. He doesn’t want me working for another Inn. He wants me working for his company as a consultant. He said he’s impressed with how well the Inn has been doing since I started to take over and he’d like me to go to other inns and hotels around the world that are just starting up and help them figure out a way to be successful.”

“All around the world,” Tanger asks and Sid nods. Mr. O’Connell has brought up hotels in Paris, Munich, and Melbourne, just to name a few. “Oh. Then go. Call him right now and accept. What the hell are you waiting for?”

“I can’t go,” Sid says with a laugh. “You expect me to just leave?”

“Umm, yes. That sounds like an amazing opportunity. I would kill for that.”

“But I don’t deserve it. I’m just doing what Mario taught me, I’m not special.”

“You special, Sid,” Geno says quietly and Tanger nods in agreement.

“Don’t sell yourself short, man. This place would fall apart if it wasn’t for you. There isn’t a fire that you don’t know how to put out. You learned how to do that on your own and I think that if you can help other people learn how to do the same while travelling the world on someone else’s dime then you should do it. You can always come back here, Sid, but It’s not always going to be so easy to get out.”

“I don’t know,” Sid says. He’s really never given it this much thought before. It’s always been a hard no in his mind. “Geno, what do you think?”

But Geno has slipped away in the middle of Tanger’s explanation and the only thing Sid catches is a glimpse of his back as he walks out the door.

 

-

 

Sid’s not going to take the job. He knows this. He might have spent eighteen years living with his parents but this is the first home he’s ever had and he’s really happy here. He’s settled in. He can’t imagine leaving this town and all these people.

He ignores Mr. O’Connell’s calls and emails and if he ever comes into the Inn Sid makes sure he stays busy so he doesn’t have time to talk to him.

Tanger keeps pushing him toward the job and Geno seems to ignore him completely. He doesn’t meet his eyes during staff meetings and he doesn’t try to talk him into sitting down and eating butternut squash soup or pork chops stuffed with a cranberry apple compote or a slice of maple bourbon apple pie.

It’s like Geno doesn’t care if Sid stays or goes and while Sid’s not exactly sure what he thought Geno’s reaction would be, he expected Geno to at least tell him that he would miss him if he ever left.

He remembers how much he used to miss Geno all those years ago when Geno went back to Rhode Island after the summers were over. He used to keep a count down until Winter and Spring break when Geno would make the six hour drive back to Pine Knoll to work instead of heading off to Cancun with his friends. When Sid was really young and really naive he used to think that maybe Geno came back because he missed him as much as Sid missed him. He remembers how he used to ache when Geno had to leave again and Sid would start counting the days until summer vacation. He remembers aching with loneliness even after he had begun to make other friends–it didn’t matter. Geno was his best friend and he was always going to miss him.

Now, as Geno drops his eyes to the floor to avoid him and skirts around the edges of the room so they don’t accidentally bump into each other, he might as well be four hundred miles away again.

 

-

 

Without Geno making sure that he eats, Sid tends to forget. 

He leaves the Inn at night with a growling stomach and no food in his house. Luckily, there was still a light on at Jack’s even though Sid knows the diner has been closed for hours.

The door is locked but when Sid jiggles the knob Jack looks up, puts down the cash that he’s been counting, and comes around the counter to unlock it.

“Sorry it’s so late,” Sid says as he steps into the diner. It hasn’t even begun to get cold out, or at least not relative to how cold it’s going to get, but he still feels chilled down to the bone and keeps his coat on as Jack leads him over to the counter.

“It’s all right,” Jack says and then adds, “Jesus, you look terrible.”

“Oh, thanks,” Sid answers sarcastically and Jack flaps a hand at him.

“I’m sorry but…you look terrible. When was the last time you slept? Or ate?”

“I had a long day. There’s a huge wedding tomorrow and we’re already so busy with tourists looking at the damn leaves and a one of the lamps broke in room 201 so I had to go up there and deal with a parent that was freaking out about broken glass being on the floor when their kid was in the room even though their kid as a six month old baby who hadn’t even begun to crawl yet.” He takes a deep breath as Jack slides a cup of coffee in front of him. Sid wraps his hands around the mug and thanks him. “I know the grills have been off for awhile now but…”

“Do you want cheese on your burger or no?”

“Cheese please,” Sid says and Jack nods as he ducks back into the kitchen to fire up the grill.

“Geno didn’t feed you,” Jack calls, “I’m shocked.”

Sid hums, not fully committed to the idea of telling Jack what’s been going on, but Jack being Jack, picks up on that right away and pokes his head out the open doorway. Where Geno’s face gets all scrunched when someone talks about Jack, Jack is the opposite with Geno. His face breaks wide open like he’s eager for any dirt or gossip that he can file away to use later.

“Everything okay there,” Jack asks and Sid shrugs.

“Geno’s been acting weird lately.”

“When isn’t that guy weird?”

“Okay,” Sid says, setting the mug down with more force than necessary. “What is up with you two?”

“Nothing is up. He’s just….impossible,” Jack says and Sid scoffs. “What did he do? Why is he weird, or weirder than normal?”

Sid sighs. “I’ve been offered a job. A new one. This guy wants me to be a consultant for other inns and hotels. He thinks I can help them get started and maybe someday they’ll be as successful as Shady Lake. I’d get to travel and see different countries and it could be amazing. But I’d have to move. I’d never be home, it wouldn’t make sense to keep my place here. I told Geno and he’s been avoiding me ever since.”

“You’re leaving,” Jack asks, “that sucks, I’m going to miss you.”

“Thank you,” Sid says as he slaps his hand against the counter. “That’s exactly the kind of reaction I was hoping to get from Geno, or at least what I expect him to say. How hard is that to do? I’m going to miss you. But he won’t even look at me.”

Jack hums.

“I don’t even think I’m going. I’m not going.”

“Why not? This sounds like a huge opportunity for you.”

“I can’t leave. I can’t leave everyone behind. This is my home.”

“But this is your career.”

“I have a career. I love it. I’m happy here. I would miss this too much.”

Jack presses his lips into a thin line and Sid can tell there’s a million things Jack wants to say to him.

But there’s a question eating Sid alive as well and he wants to beat Jack to the punch.

“Geno said you like me,” Sid says and then immediately feels like a teenager. He regrets it but it’s out there now and he might as well get the rest of it over with. “He said that’s the reason you’ve always been so nice to me. Because you have feelings for me. That’s not true is it?”

“That’s not the reason I’m nice to you, Sid,” Jack says softly and that’s…not a denial.

“Okay, but…is it…are you…do you…”

Jack sighs heavily and Sid’s shoulders slump.

“Oh. Jack. I didn’t know, I don’t–.”

“It’s not like that,” Jack finally says, “not anymore. I mean, I don’t know. I thought maybe when we first met….there might have been something there but now…mostly I gave up on it when I saw how Geno was with you and how you were with Geno. I knew I couldn’t compete with that so it was easier to just…” He takes a deep breath. “Move on.”

“I don’t understand,” Sid says slowly, “how is Geno with me? How am I with Geno?”

“C’mon, Sid. He’s completely in love with you and you’re in love with him. Everyone can see it, everyone knows. Why do you think he doesn’t like me? He thinks we’re in some kind of weird competition for you but you’ve had your mind made up for years.”

“That’s not…” Sid stutters. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Think about it. Think about what’s really keeping you here. When you think about the things you’re going to miss if you leave, what’s the first thing that pops into your mind? Or, who is the first person that pops into your mind?”

“Geno,” Sid says automatically, because it’s always been Geno. “Oh. Oh shit.”

“It’s okay,” Jack says quickly. “It’s going to be okay, you’ll figure it out, the both of you.” He leans forward on the counter and squeezes Sid’s wrist. “You still want that burger?”

Sid nods and when he thanks him, he lets it mean for everything.

 

-

 

Sid gets to the Inn early the following morning, even earlier than normal.

He finds Geno in the kitchen, just like he thought he would, working on the wedding cake. Five tiers covered in white fondant with small, lifelike, red, orange, and yellow leaves cascading down the sides. Dozens of them, each hand placed by Geno who is currently bent over the table, repositioning one that he doesn’t think looks right.

His eyes flick up to Sid when the door opens then he immediately looks away and Sid suppresses a sigh.

He loves Geno, completely, even the stupid stubborn side of him that flares up occasionally.

Sid doesn’t say a thing as he steps into the kitchen, around Geno, and to the coffee maker. He pours himself a cup and sips at it as he boils water on the stove, testing Geno’s resolve as he pokes around his kitchen.

Sid watches Geno’s jaw set and his hands tremble as he physically holds himself back from stopping Sid from digging around his tea drawer.

He lets the tea leaves steep and leans against the counter as he watches Geno work. Geno is completely focused on the task at hand, tuning Sid out as he tries to make the cake look as perfect as possible because he knows that’s what the bride and groom wants. Because he knows that’s what Sid wants.

When the tea is done Sid tops off his own mug with coffee then sets the tea on the table by the cake. He curls his hand around Geno’s elbow and tugs.

“Come on, take a walk with me,” he asks softly, “please.”

Geno bites his lip then sets down the leaf he’s working on. He smells like sugar and smoke and when he shoots a glance at Sid, Sid sees his resolve crumbling.

Geno follows him down the gentle slope of the back yard toward Sid’s old converted shed, dried leaves crunching beneath their feet as they walk.

There are two Adirondack chairs on the cement slab out front, acquired from a yard sale during Sid’s third year of living there. Geno sits beside him and rests his mug on the arm of the chair, steam curling over the rim.

Soon the guests will begin to wake up and Geno will need to start breakfast and after that Sid’s day will be devoted to making sure that this wedding goes off without a hitch but right now the world is quiet and narrowed down to just the two of them.

Sid’s content to sit in silence for just a few more moments when Geno shifts beside him and clears his throat.

“Should take that job, Sid,” Geno says quietly and Sid frowns as he looks over at him. If Jack said he looked terrible, he’d hate to hear what he’d have to say about Geno. Geno looks worn down and conflicted. It’s clear that it’s more than the run-of-the-mill work stress that’s been eating away at him. “You should take it,” he continues. “Get to see whole world. This town is so small, you should have more.”

“I already turned the job down,” Sid says and holds up a hand when Geno tries to argue. “It’s done. I’m not going. I love this town.”

“But–.”

“I love the people. I have a lot of reasons to stay. I talked to Jack last night,” he says and Geno hunches in on himself and looks down at his tea. “We talked mostly about you, actually. You were wrong, by the way, he doesn’t have feelings for me.”

Geno hazards a glance in Sid’s direction.

“But he said that you do.”

“Sid–.”

“And he said that I have feelings for you,” Sid rushes out, “he said it was so obvious and he’s right, you know, at least about me. Was he right about you?”

Geno nods, very slowly, and Sid feels his whole body light up from the inside with joy.

“He’s right,” Geno says, “for long time.” He tips his head back toward the shed. “Maybe since I first see you standing right in there. I always like but now.” He presses the back of his hand against Sid’s. “How could I not love?”

Sid laughs, tiny and breathless, and climbs out of the chair so he can step between Geno’s knees and cup Geno’s face in his hands.

Their first kiss tastes like coffee and tea, sweet and bitter and earthy all at once, and Sid can’t wait to find the flavor of their second and third and fourth.

Geno anchors his hands on Sid’s hips and Sid’s just about to forget all of his upcoming responsibility that lies within the walls of the Inn and climb onto Geno’s lap when someone clears their throat behind him and he pulls away.

Tanger’s standing there, telling them that he’s sorry for interrupting but looking anything but. He’s fighting a smile as he tells Sid he just got a call from the company that they’re renting the chairs and tables for the wedding from.

“They’re missing two tables and fifteen chairs and I know I ordered them, I double and triple checked the paperwork before I turned it over to them but now we’re gonna be short and I don’t know what to do.”

“Squeeze people together,” Geno says as he rests his forehead against Sid’s side. He still has his hands on Sid’s hips. “Leave us alone.”

Sid pats his head then pulls him up to his feet. “I’m coming in to talk to them. Worse case scenario we borrow some chairs and tables from the dining room, as long as all the table cloths match it should be fine.”

Tanger nods as they all start up toward the Inn then gives Sid a long look. “I guess this means you’re staying.”

“Yeah,” Sid says as he reaches out and brushes his pinky against the side of Geno’s hand. A second later Geno is wrapping his fingers around Sid’s wrist before he tangles both their fingers together so they’re palm to palm. Sid doesn’t look over at him but he doesn’t have to, he already knows Geno is smiling.

“Yeah,” he says again, “this is where I’m supposed to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [ here. ](https://secret-sidgeno-writer.tumblr.com/)


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